


Rained Out

by Rehfan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Time, Frottage, Kissing, Locker Room, M/M, Shower Sex, Wet Clothing Kink, humor and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott had seen Stiles strip after practices before. He had seen him covered in sweat and grime. He had even seen him in a towel fresh from the showers. He just never… noticed before.</p><p>based on a prompt by randomsociopath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rained Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomsociopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomsociopath/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Male Nude](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/94424) by hommesbeaux. 



He had seen him strip after practices before. He had seen him covered in sweat and grime. He had even seen him in a towel fresh from the showers. He just never… noticed before.

Stiles was soaked to the skin. His white Beacon Hills Athletics Dept t-shirt was sticking to every curve of his body and when the hell did he get so cut?

“What?” asked Stiles.

Scott blinked at him. “N-nothing, dude. You just look, um, cold.”

“I am freezing,” said Stiles. They stood in the locker room after hours, the lights off. Rain was pouring outside - the same storm that had interrupted their extra practice so Stiles could hope to improve his skills guarding goal and earn a higher position in Coach’s eyes. It had been ages since they had the opportunity to practice where nothing supernatural was going on and both of them had commented that they missed it immensely, the normalcy of it. It was nice to have it back.

The rain ruined a pretty good practice and they were both cursing the sky when it opened and dumped down on them. Scott beat Stiles back to the locker room, his wolf powers getting him there in a flash. By the time Stiles arrived, he was in the condition Scott currently saw him in.

“You know, you could have showed a bit of solidarity and not wolfed your way back here,” said Stiles, throwing down the soaking equipment angrily.

“But then I would be as soaking wet as you,” said Scott, smirking at his best friend.

Stiles just glared at him and stalked past, his shoes leaving a squeaky trail of wet footprints behind him. Christ, even his sweatpants clung to him defining a bulge Scott was pretty sure didn’t exist before.

Scott cleared his throat, but couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his voice when he said: “Sorry, dude.”

“Oh shut up,” said Stiles as he slowly peeled the shirt off of his body.

Normally, the lights would have been on. The unflattering glare of the fluorescents usually made everything a uniform flat color offering no shade or dramatic angles. The muted sunlight that came into the high windows filtered down along Stiles’ body, light kissing him in all the right places as he reached over his head to pull the shirt off. He bent double with the effort, the line of his spine exposed, his wet sweatpants sagging, revealing the waistband of his underwear.

There was a loud bang as his shirt-covered head hit the locker doors. “Ow! Dammit! Fuck!” he shouted.

Scott laughed. He couldn’t help it. After another seconds’ enjoyment of Stiles’ predicament, Scott got up and crossed the space between them. “Here, dork. Let me help you.”

From beneath the t-shirt came a muffled retort: “No. No. I got it.” Grunting and twisting with the effort, his elbow made contact with the locker door. Again came a shout of pain and cursing from beneath the soaked material.

Scott grabbed the shirt at Stiles’ back, the backs of his fingers rubbing against the cold flesh. He pulled forward, peeling the shirt over Stiles’ head and off his arms as he stood back up. They were nose to nose and Scott found himself holding his breath.

“Thanks, dude,” said Stiles, rubbing his elbow.

“You are a complete dork, you know,” said Scott, grinning at him.

“So you’ve said,” said Stiles, an involuntary shiver crossed Stiles’ body as he stood there, his hair still dripping.

“You should warm up,” said Scott.

“N-no kidding,” said Stiles.

Scott found himself staring at his mouth, a lingering look that Stiles didn’t miss. “Dude, what’s up with you?”

Scott didn’t quite know where to begin. “Do you remember when you asked me to kiss you to see what it would be like?”

“Yeah,” said Stiles, dragging the word out to echo his curiosity and confusion.

“Yeah so… we’re alone… what the hell?” said Scott, feeling the blush rise around his neck and over his cheeks. “Right?”

“What the-” said Stiles, backing off slightly. He flailed and stuttered in shock. “You chicken fried fuck!”

“What?!”

“I mean- this whole time?! This whole time, dude?!” said Stiles. “You absolute fuckwad!”

“Stiles, I-”

Scott’s next words were cut off by a searing kiss from Stiles. He pressed his body against Scott and they both let out a grunt when, in Scott’s shock, he allowed both of them to collapse against the lockers.

It was like nothing Scott imagined - not that he had been imagining long - and he closed his eyes as he felt Stiles wrap his arms around his body: one arm along his shoulders, the other around his waist. His brain was barely able to keep up with the input it was receiving: cold flesh in his hands, slowly warming under his heat; the smell of Stiles’ sweat, sweet and musky; the taste of mint and warm wine that made his head spin. The wolf in him growled possessively and it took a bit of effort not to let his claws extend.

The kiss broke and Stiles shivered again.

“Shower?” offered Scott.

Stiles’ smirk was all he needed to see.

 

~080~

 

They turned on the shower to the hottest setting and spent a disgusting amount of time kissing under the spray. Scott found himself surprised at how much he enjoyed kissing Stiles. He hadn’t really contemplated how good a kisser he could be. But then, kissing was always vastly improved by an enthusiastic partner. And if Stiles’ hands everywhere on him were any indication of his enthusiasm, Scott knew Stiles was seriously into this.

Stiles’ mouth was a wet pink source of pleasure as it trailed kisses down his neck and found that one goddamn spot- “Fuck! Stiles!” said Scott.

“Good for you, Scotty?” Stiles murmured into his skin.

“Shit, man,” said Scott.

Stiles worried that spot until Scott felt himself get so hard he thought he was going to burst. “Stiles,” he panted, “Stiles, we’ve gotta do something… else. Better. Please. I’m gonna fucking blow up.”

Stiles pulled his head up to stare at Scott. “Wolf out,” he said.

“No, I’m good. I’m not going to lose it like that-”

“No dude,” said Stiles. “Fucking wolf out. Seriously. Wolf out. I want your claws on me, dude. Come on.” As if Scott needed extra convincing, he took his cock in his hand and stroked him off, causing Scott to gasp as he leaned forward and whispered: “Come on, Alpha. Show me the wolf.”

Scott let go.

The next thing he knew, Stiles was against the wall and he was at his neck, not biting - not to Stiles, never to Stiles - but nipping, playful, teasing. Both of their cocks were in Stiles’ hand and he was stroking them off at a frantic pace. Scott’s hips were grinding into his touch and his blood rose as he heard Stiles’ moan. This was harried, wild, fraught with overwrought emotion pent up from too many years of not being ready, not thinking the other felt open to the idea, never saying those words that they both needed to hear.

“Oh fuck, Stiles,” said Scott through the haze of his wolf’s perceptions; the colors that surrounded them too bright, the sound too loud, the scent… overwhelming as Stiles came, his fantasy realized.

“Scotty… damn it, Scotty,” he gasped. “Oh Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard. Fuck.”

Scott kissed him and moaned into his mouth as he came all over Stiles, marking him, owning him.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Scott panted into his ear as his orgasm fell away slowly, hips canting gently against Stiles’ hand.

“Yours?” asked Stiles.

They gave each other an understanding sex-drunk gaze. Of course they belonged to one another. Why wouldn’t they? They had both known it all along.

“Next time,” said Stiles, “we do this when we’re dry and warm and comfortable. And we take our time. I’ve got shit I’ve been wanting to try for ages, dude.”

Scott smirked. “My mom’s working night shift tonight.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Nope,” said Scott. “And she made empanadas too. Enough for both of us.”

Stiles shook his head in disbelief. “Dude, what the fuck are we waiting for?!”

Scott never knew Stiles could get dried off and dressed that quickly. He was pretty sure he set a land speed record.


End file.
